A Winning Season Read online

  Harper sat straight. “What the hell is a PINS?”

  Zoey’s expression hardened. “What did I tell you about using that kind of language with me? I am not one of your friends.” She had enunciated each word. “A PINS is a ‘person in need of supervision’ petition. It means that a family court judge will mandate what you can and cannot do. And the fact that you were picked up for public intoxication does little to boost your defense that you’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Harper pushed out his lip. “I’m not drinking anymore.”

  She knew he wasn’t being truthful, because even with the space separating them Zoey could smell the beer on his breath. “I’m not a fool, Harper. Do you want me to call Sheriff Collier and have him send one of his deputies over with a Breathalyzer?”

  Harper shook his head. “No.” He paused, the seconds ticking. “All right. I had a couple of beers.”

  “Where?”

  “Not at Triple Jay’s house. His father would kill him if he found him drinking.”

  “And you thought I would go along with your underage drinking?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Where were you drinking?” Zoey repeated.

  “It was in Mineral Springs.”

  “You left the Falls to get drunk in the Springs?”

  “I have a friend who lives in the Springs and his older brother bought the beer for us.”

  “I want you to listen to what I’m going to stay because I don’t intend to repeat it. This will be the last time you’ll go to Mineral Springs to drink anything. Not even water. And it is also the last time you will come into his house after ten. Once school begins, I want you home after your last class. The exception will be extracurricular activities. You are to keep your room clean, and I don’t want you eating in there again. We don’t need a vermin infestation. And there are going to be some new rules around here. You will have to earn your allowance. Beginning tomorrow, every Saturday you will get up early to mow the lawn and bag the garbage for the Monday pickup.”

  Harper ran his fingers through a mane of curly hair. “Okay, Zoey, I hear you.”

  She gritted her teeth. “You hear me, but are you listening, Harper?”

  “Yes, I’m listening. I promise no more beer, I have to be in by ten, keep my room clean, and bag the garbage and clean the backyard on Saturdays.”

  Zoey waved her hand in dismissal. She knew Harper was attempting to placate her. She had never been so embarrassed as when a local deputy discovered him urinating in the parking lot behind a row of stores in the business district. Rather than arrest him, Seth Collier called her to pick him up, with a stern warning that his next offense could possibly result in an arrest.

  She watched Harper as he slowly made his way up the staircase, hoping and praying he would keep his promise. She did not like issuing threats, yet she was willing to do it if it meant preventing her brother from ruining his life. Harper had taken his mother’s death particularly hard.

  Zoey suspected something was causing Harper to act out, and whenever she asked him if he wanted to talk to her, he gave her the pat answer that he was okay. He may have thought he was okay, while continuing with his rebellious behavior. It had been years since her youngest brother was in counseling, and she thought perhaps now it was time to talk to Harper as to whether he needed someone other than her to confide in.

  Going from a family of five to three had been not only shocking but also traumatic, and Zoey had had to seek out a counselor help her adjust to becoming a teenage mother to a six-and eight-year-old. At eighteen she was cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, shopping for groceries and helping her siblings with homework in between working a part-time position at Ruthie’s, the local family-style buffet restaurant. Other girls her age were dating, holding down full-time jobs or enrolled in college, while she had become legal guardian and surrogate mother to two young boys who’d lost both parents at the same time.

  It had taken her more than a year to adjust to caring for someone other than herself and have the Allen family settled into a routine that came as close to normal as it would have been if James and Charmaine were still alive. Pushing off the sofa, she turned off the lamp and made her way to the staircase and to her bedroom.

  Zoey changed into a nightgown, adjusted the thermostat on the air conditioner, and got into bed. Although tired, she could not stop thinking about Harper flirting with the possibility of getting arrested. Her fear that he would end up with a criminal record kept her from a restful night’s sleep, and it was close to dawn when she finally fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  Chapter Two

  Sutton Reed unloaded a half dozen bags from the cargo area of the SUV with the groceries he needed to stock the refrigerator and pantry in the rental home that was to be his temporary dwelling until next spring when the owner was scheduled to return from Ohio.

  He had returned to Wickham Falls in July during Major League Baseball’s All-Star break, but for him the break with the sport that had given him the opportunity to live out his dream was finalized months earlier. Sutton had become a free agent at the end of the prior season, and after two stints on the injured list during his fourteen-year career, he’d realized it was time for him to put away his bat and glove and hang up his cleats. Now at thirty-six, he looked forward to life off the baseball diamond and away from the glare of the spotlight.

  Sutton knew he had disappointed his agent when he’d declined re-signing with the Atlanta Braves, but his body communicated to him it was time to quit before he seriously reinjured his right knee. Even now, after countless hours of physical therapy, it would stiffen when he least expected.

  Yes. He had made the right decision to leave baseball, sell his Atlanta condo and return to his hometown to assist his aunt and uncle in running Powell’s Department Store once their daughter opened her craft shop around the corner in Wickham Falls’ downtown business district. However, after two weeks, he’d felt manning the sporting goods department was not as stimulating as he had expected it to be and living under the same roof with his relatives felt strange for someone who’d become emancipated within weeks of enrolling in college.

  He’d contacted Mrs. Reilly, the local Realtor, who’d informed him there was an available rental, but the owner, Sharon Williams, had given her explicit instructions that anyone who leased her house had to submit a two-month security deposit to cover potential damages and undergo an extensive background check, because she did not want to return from Ohio to discover her home not as she’d left it. Sutton did not have to wait long for the local biweekly’s office manager to give her approval, and it had taken only days to finalize the paperwork and for him to move into the comfortably furnished three-bedroom house.

  Things had changed since Sutton left the Falls to attend college. However, they hadn’t changed so much that he did not recognize the town in which he’d grown up. There were a few new shops along the four square blocks of the business district in a town that still did not claim a fast-food restaurant or big-box store. Residents were very vocal about preserving their small-town ambience with mom-and-pop shops stocking everything the community wanted and needed for daily existence. Their motto was: Live Local. Buy Local.

  Sutton had returned to his hometown since leaving to attend college, but as his baseball career escalated and after his mother decided she wanted to move to Atlanta to be closer to him, his visits became less frequent, and he’d had to rely on his cousin Georgina Powell to keep him abreast of the happenings in the Falls.

  It took him less than fifteen minutes to put away the canned goods and perishables. The fully furnished, meticulously clean house with an updated kitchen, full and half baths, living/dining/family rooms, attached garage and three second-story bedrooms was perfect for his current lifestyle. The backyard was spacious, and when he unlocked the shed, he’d found a gas grill, lawnmower, smoker and gardening tools.

>   Divorced and with a graduate degree in history and an illustrious sports career behind him, Sutton had decided to wait a year before making decisions about his future. He had to choose whether to teach, become an athletic coach or go into business to establish a sports camp for underserved youth. Multiple seven-figure contracts, a number of endorsements and conservative investments would allow him to live comfortably for years to come.

  * * *

  Sutton had just finished brewing coffee when he heard a familiar ringtone on his cell phone. Tapping the screen, he answered the call, and then activated the speaker feature. “Good morning, Mom.”

  “You don’t sound as if I woke you up.”

  “I’ve been up for a while,” he told Michelle Reed. “The company transporting my car from Georgia is expected to be here by nine.” He’d stored the car along with his condo’s furnishings until he found permanent housing but did not want to leave the vehicle for the next six months without driving it. While in Atlanta, he tended to take the Aston Martin out of the garage every few weeks to keep it running smoothly.

  “Do you have some place to garage it?”

  He knew his mother had asked because he’d made it a practice not to park the upscale sports car on the street or in the private parking lot behind the row of warehouses that had been converted into condos. “Yes. Sharon Williams’s house has a garage, and I’m going to leave it in there until I’m ready to take it out.”

  “I really didn’t call you to chat long, but to tell you I’ve decided to close up my house for the next six months. After that I must decide whether I want to keep or sell it. I should know one way or the other sometime early next year. I’ve already called Evelyn to let her know I’m willing to stay with her and Bruce. I also told her that I don’t mind helping out in the store.”

  “When did you decide this?” he asked. The last time he’d spoken to his mother she’d said nothing about temporarily relocating to the town where her family had lived for generations.

  And her coming back to work in Powell’s Department Store with her sister Evelyn and brother-in-law Bruce Powell also surprised Sutton. He recalled his mother refusing a position of maintaining the books at the retail store because with a degree in business management she preferred working in an office. Michelle began her career as clerk with the Johnson County Public Schools system, eventually advancing to budget manager until she resigned to relocate to Atlanta to live closer to him.

  Sutton added a splash of cream to his cup of coffee, and took a sip as he listened to his mother drone on about becoming disenchanted with living in Atlanta, while he wanted to remind her that it wasn’t the city but the women in her social circle. Michelle was the pied piper for those always looking for a handout. It had been that way with his father and continued with those she considered her friends. He’d cautioned her over and over that they were users and hangers-on; unfortunately, it had taken years before she’d come to that conclusion on her own.

  “You’re closing the house for six months, but what do you intend to do after that?” Sutton asked his mother. Six months meant Michelle would be in the Falls through the new year.

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. And if I stay here, then I’ll buy a one-bedroom condo. I know you got tired of hearing me complain about trying to get rid of those two-faced heifers who acted as if I was running a bed-and-breakfast. I should’ve taken your advice and chosen a house in a gated community where they’d have to be announced to gain access.”

  Sutton had promised his mother he would gift her with a house once she’d decided to leave Wickham Falls and move to Atlanta. Michelle had secured the services of a Realtor to show her a few homes and she finally selected a three-bedroom high ranch in a suburb subdivision. He smiled. His mother was moving back to live with her sister and brother-in-law. And it also meant they didn’t need him to work in the store. The Powells had established a tradition that only those connected to the family were allowed to manage the centuries-old business establishment.

  “Now that you’re going to be working at Powell’s, I suppose this means I’m fired.”

  “I know you were willing to step up and help Bruce once Georgina opened her own shop, and I also know you didn’t go to college and get a graduate degree to become a salesclerk. I told your uncle that I will fill in wherever I’m needed.”

  His mother was right. He didn’t mind helping out his aunt and uncle, but it wasn’t something he’d wanted to do for an extended period. Sutton had enrolled in college on a full academic and athletic scholarship. Following his graduation, he’d signed on with the Braves’ minor league baseball team as a first baseman. After his tenth year in the big leagues, he’d gone online to earn a graduate degree in American history with the intent to teach once his baseball career ended.

  He was more than aware that an athlete’s career had an expiration date, and he’d carefully planned for when that day would become a reality. Now that his mother planned to return to Wickham Falls, Sutton knew it was time for him to update his résumé. The new school year was scheduled to begin in two weeks, and he was willing to work as a substitute until he found a permanent position as a history teacher.

  “I’m going to ring off because I still need to pack up some of my clothes and ship them to the Falls. I’ll call you again before I leave here for good.”

  “No problem, Mom. And please drive carefully.”

  Michelle made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “You know I don’t speed.”

  “I know that, but just be aware of the other crazies on the road.”

  “I will. Love you, son.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  Sutton ended the call, picked up the coffee mug, left the kitchen and walked out of the house to wait on the porch for the car carrier. He’d just sat on a cushioned chaise when he saw movement out of the side of his eye. He turned to find Zoey sitting on a porch swing reading. He smiled. She looked nothing like the young woman he’d met the day before. A revealing tank top and shorts had replaced the loose-fitting pink smock and matching pants, and he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the smooth brown skin on her bared arms and long legs. When he’d stood next to her, introducing himself, Sutton realized she was taller than the average woman, and the chemically straightened hair she had secured in a knot on the top of her head was now styled in a messy bun on the nape of her long, graceful neck.

  Stretching out his legs, he crossed his sandaled feet at the ankles. He would’ve greeted his neighbor if she hadn’t appeared so engrossed in her book. Unlike at the home that he’d shared with his ex-wife or the condo where he’d resided after his divorce, he hadn’t had much contact with his neighbors. But Sharon Williams’s house and the Allens’ were separated by a driveway wide enough for only a single vehicle.

  Although his interaction with Zoey hadn’t lasted more than two minutes, it was enough for Sutton to recall her small, round face, wide-set dark eyes that appeared if she’d been suddenly startled, short, pert nose and a lush mouth that had held his rapt attention. He realized he’d been staring, but there was something about Zoey Allen that had enthralled and intrigued him. She appeared totally unfazed by his so-called celebrity persona, unlike a few women who’d fawned over him because that was what they believed he wanted. And there was an air of maturity about her that probably had come from the responsibility of having to raise her younger siblings when she was still a teenager.

  He had dated a number of beautiful women, and eventually married one, yet after a while he realized their looks were only window dressing and that he had wanted more. And the more was compatibility. It had taken Sutton a long time to grow emotionally and realize that although he had to strive to become what others wanted him to be, he had to be honest enough with himself to do what made him feel secure. He had become a media darling on and off the field, and there were times when he’d felt like a marionette with someone
else pulling the strings. And it wasn’t as if he was ungrateful that baseball had afforded him a lifestyle he never would’ve had if he’d chosen a different career. But now it felt good not to have to perform for the public and that he could be himself in his hometown.

  Sutton took a sidelong glance at Zoey’s delicate profile as she appeared completely absorbed in the book on her lap, unable to pull his gaze away from her long legs and narrow feet. When his mother had called to inform him of the accidental deaths of the Allen parents and that the town was setting up a college scholarship fund for the two minor boys, he hadn’t hesitated and had anonymously sent a generous donation. His mother was more familiar with Zoey’s family because she’d attended school with James Allen. His contact with Zoey’s family was limited because they’d lived in another part of town from where he’d grown up, and he estimated that he was at least eight years her senior.

  When he’d complimented her for raising her brothers, her reply had been “I’ve tried.” Well, it appeared as if she had done a good job because he knew it couldn’t have been easy for a teenage girl to assume the responsibility of raising her younger brothers.

  “Good morning.”

  Sutton had just taken another sip of coffee when he heard Zoey’s greeting. Shifting slightly on the chaise, he smiled at her. “Good morning to you, too. I would’ve said something sooner, but you were totally engrossed in your book.”

  Zoey closed the book. “I don’t get much time to read, so when I do, I try to take advantage of it.”

  She’d wanted to sleep in late because she didn’t have to go to work, but her internal clock refused to cooperate. Monday through Friday she got up at six, made up her bed, showered and dressed before going downstairs to prepare lunch for herself. She always made certain there were leftovers for Harper to microwave before getting into the fifteen-year-old Chrysler Pacifica minivan that had logged so many miles she’d made it a point not to look at the odometer.